


the end of the world

by cottonclown



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Alastor is bad at feelings, F/M, Human Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), I apologize if the french is bad, I just want to write abt human Al, I'm rusty, More tags to be added, Murder, People Will Die, Short Chapters, Slow Updates, alastor simps, author will not hesitate to post at 3 AM, bro i literally started that tag no cap, but thats ok bc reader gets a happy ending, it takes awhile but y'all eventually end up in Hell, might be a short book in general, most likely, probably, reader falls for the hot radio show host, reader is a sweet southern belle bc its my book and i do what i want, reader speaks française, takes place in New Orleans
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-16
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:00:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21817789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cottonclown/pseuds/cottonclown
Summary: Voodoo.It's not uncommon to see on the streets. Simply parlor tricks, right?"Pombra Gira. Have you heard of it?"No. You didn't dare mess with shadowmen."It is one of the most powerful love spells in existence."But he was no shadowman.He was a charming host, and pleasant company.His name was Alastor.
Relationships: Alastor (Hazbin Hotel) & Reader, Alastor (Hazbin Hotel)/Reader
Comments: 36
Kudos: 192





	1. the man at midnight

**Author's Note:**

> This book will probably be the slowest moving and will be dead very often..  
> But I will try my best to be active! Because I love Louisiana and I love Human!Alastor!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for any historical errors I made!  
> That being said, let me put music from the 1960s into the 1930s..

_Qui vivra verra._

—

The year is 1930.

In New Orleans it is what folk nowadays call the end of the roaring 20s!

Only a few days from Mardi Gras and everyone is bustling about. The celebration has already begun, spiritually of course. Anyone could feel it in the air. 

Getting ready for parades, cooking up a storm, dressing up…

_Falling in love?_

Perhaps all the other residents, but not [Y/n], who spends her Mardi Gras watching from a rooftop, away from the crowds. 

Sure, the energy is amazing and the colors are whimsical, but she’s not one for big parties. A bit too loud for her. She loves her home dearly, she’ll probably never leave Louisiana. 

Oh, how she loves the music, the food, the aroma of the ports and restaurants.

_But she doesn’t like big parties._

She works day and night just to make ends meet all by herself, exhausted almost all the time. [Y/n] is a driven young woman who is able to balance almost three jobs.

The bakery she works at during the morning is wonderful. Sweet and warm smells make up for stressful hours. Maybe it’s because of how crowded it gets that she just won’t go out of her way to be stuck in an even bigger crowd.

Her midday job isn’t actually much of a job, but she likes to help around the neighborhood. Little handyman things like watching kids or helping the butcher mince meat. Sometimes they would pay her with food, sometimes they’d pay her with money. She wasn’t picky.

Come the evening and there’s a hole in the wall cafe that makes the most _stupendous_ gumbo one will ever taste. It is owned by a _young_ lady (at least, that is what she demands to be called, “I’m in my golden years, cher. Call me Momma but don’t call me old.”) who speaks with a slight Cajun accent. It always makes [Y/n] feel giddy inside. As if she’s a kid talking to her grand-er, ahem, her _mother_. 

Everyday as it turns dark in the sky, this lady insists she take some food before she goes and it brings tears to her eyes. “Go on an’ take it, sugar. Momma wants ya to go home fed well, ya hear?” she would say. And that lady does not take no for an answer! Each day can get draining.

Still, [Y/n] is pleased with the work and what it earns.

Every day ends with a tired, but comfortable sigh at the thought of arriving to a modest little place called home.

She ends work around ten in the evening and usually arrives to her complex around midnight (if she doesn’t stop to pet every dog or cat she sees). She walks the few miles home and back, preferring it over vehicle transportation.

By midnight, lights are off. Lanterns on the streets get snuffed out (if they weren’t electric by now), and it’s very _very_ dark.

It’s pleasant to hear nothing but cricket chirps and the occasional ring of a trolley. 

—

It is two in the morning. [Y/n] will have to go to work soon, so she should be asleep.

Well, she was, it’s just that a little friend decided to visit her.

“Hello there.” Still laying on the mattress, two thin yellow eyes stared into her own [e/c] ones. A sleek, narcissistic black cat. After seeing that she will feed him no matter how many times he scratches her face or arms, it has become quite docile that one may confuse it as the woman’s pet. “Hungry?”

[Y/n] was used to having it climb through the window every dusk and dawn, not at all becoming agitated from lack of sleep. She could never be upset with the critter. “You know, milk is not good for your belly. I don’t know why you won’t just drink the water.” 

It often made such clean, smooth motions with its body, that seriously, did it just shrug?

Frequently, the feline would tilt its head or flick at a whisker in response to certain conversations. It would yawn whenever [Y/n] talked about her day or a new person she met. Occasionally, when she was feeling melancholic, he’d sit beside her quietly. 

If she cried, his nose would twitch, whiskers sensitive to her emotions. If she just vented, he would sleep, but his ears would be inclined towards her as if to say ”I’m listening”. 

It's beyond irritating on the rare days that [Y/n] actually gets a lot of rest. Her eyes get this sparkle and she _smiles_ and it's just..gross. 

He's noticed that she dances on these days. Thankfully, the gal doesn't dare try and _pick him up to dance_.

Yet, even though her body moves so merrily and her eyes and smile are bright, her face looks unbearably wistful when songs of love come on. She almost looks... _sad_.

However, the cat does not understand. He only knows that days like those mean she will, without fail, feed him yummy beef or chicken, cooked just for him!

He likes it most when she sings to him, although, again, he doesn't truly understand. He simply enjoys her voice.

The moment a tune would play on the radio, both the cat and lady will belt out any song recognized. [Y/n] gives him _those_ looks (where she's trying not to laugh at his screeching) and just like that, uh oh looks like someone needs _another_ new vase.

This is just a cat, but it has acted as the best friend no human has ever been to her.

A mewl snapped her back into the present.

”Right. Sorry, sweetie.” [Y/n] walked the small distance from her bed to the door. The floorboards creaked a bit as she wanders about, the kitchen so nearby it takes her only seconds to go get what she needs before returning to the room and opening the entrance to the balcony. 

No offense, but the cat was a messy eater.

The air is chilly, but it always is at this time. Placing a plate of leftover chicken and bowl of milk (she put down water too, but didn't expect it to be acknowledged). 

With a hum, and perhaps the slightest bit delirious, [Y/n] sang with a lazy voice. The cat almost paused his meal to appreciate it, until he saw that same, longing look rest on her features.

_”Why does the sun go on shining?”_

She leaned on the fencing, almost whispering the words. Starting up at the stars and glowing moon, she smiled. An ethereal sight to see.

_”Why does the sea rush to shore?”_

The cat kept eating.

_”Don't they know it's the end_ of the…” 

Her voice faded completely, her hands delicate against the rail. 

Someone, no, a man was walking down the street. How peculiar; no one should be up at his time. At least, not on the streets. The jobs around here didn't start that early.

He was carrying something?

Oh, now she understood. [Y/n] watched as the man appeared to be carrying a drunken companion. The intoxicated one was barely walking, weak groans resonating from them. They seemed to be stuck between being conscious and being unconscious.

Poor thing, they seem to be in pain.

The cat let out a loud whine, causing the tall man to quickly look towards the balcony. [Y/n] was basically frozen, unsure how to react at what happened next.

This man offered her a smile, that much she was sure. It was a brilliant white in the darkness, it rivaled the moon in the sky.

There was an odd warmth that engulfed her, heart almost leaping in both fear and joy when he looked at her. She couldn't see his face, much like he probably couldn't see hers.

They couldn't see each other.

Strangely, there was a sense of familiarity with that smile. Without a word, [Y/n] returned the gesture, not needing to force a plastic smile. 

She leaned down, petting the cat gently before turning to return to her bed. Hopefully, she could fall back asleep quickly because the Lord knows how bad the day will be if she goes into it with little energy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so sorry for such a dry build up folks!
> 
> Again, I apologize for any errors I made regarding..anything??
> 
> I've had this on my drafts since December and I only remembered about it just yesterday so..
> 
> I AM SORRY THIS IS SO RUSHED (sob sob)
> 
> I’ll probably go back and fix it later, maybe add a few more sentences or spice up the vocabulary some?? 
> 
> anyway thank you for reading til the end!
> 
> じゃあね~!


	2. a tall drink of water after mass

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hullo! cot here  
> please enjoy this cut up chapter!
> 
> I actually started writing this the day after I published the first chapter but uhh.. you see I have a problem called procrastination??  
> and I'm a student who is currently dying bc my teachers give me a billion assignments a day!  
> wish me luck, folks ;;
> 
> I DIDN'T PROOFREAD*

_“Il n’y a qu’un bonheur dans la vie, c’est d’aimer et d’être aimé.”_

_– George Sand_

—

“..and then they lived happily ever after.” 

The cat fluttered his eyes, an eye roll. [Y/n] frowned at this, the skin between her brows creasing. If she kept that up, her skin was going to wrinkle. 

Her jaw tightened as a pout appeared on her lips.

“I’m gettin’ real tired of reading to you.” She mumbled, closing the thin book in her hands. “It’s just love.”

_Just love._

He couldn’t respond, but his look said it all. [Y/n] had that miserable look on her face so he got comfortable. She was in a talking mood, wasn't she?

Suddenly she cleared her throat, patting her chest as if helping pass food. ”Sorry, my dear. I hafta go to mass.” The cat blinked and, dare say, looked _surprised._ He was a tad bit offended, for some reason, and hissed at her. An unimpressed look was sent his way, and [Y/n] crossed her arms. “No need for an attitude, Mista.”

The feline rolled over to his side, face upturned away from her. It was going to ignore her for now.

[Y/n] sighed, shaking her head at this _child_ she was stuck dealing with. ”Fine then,” her voice was that of a relenting parent. ”Your dishes are full. I'll be back by early evening.”

With that, she left her home, greeting any neighbor that was roaming about the residence. The third morning mass should be starting soon and a few of the younger occupants were all dressed in their Sunday coats. 

”Mornin’ miss.” The young woman spotted a familiar face, waving at the auntie who lived down a few doors.

”Oh! _Bonjour madame._ ” She was a pear-shaped lady, with eyes softer than cashmere and skin that had received chaste kisses from the sun. A pretty lady.

”Off to mass?” [Y/n] eventually caught up to the other gal, offering to help with the roses she held. 

”Yes’m. Why, don't cha look as pretty as a peach in June?” A small smile made its way to her face as she inspected her younger neighbor.

”Thank ya, ma'am.” As usual, it was a mandatory smile the older lady received in return, void of energy. No one ever really noticed of course.

They kind of just accept the fact that her expression is empty.

”Say, why don't cha come work with me, sweetheart? Your pretty face is sure to attract folk.” At this [Y/n] couldn't help but cringe internally. She was well aware that her neighbor’s job was _lewd_ , to say the least. 

Awkwardly, she shook her head, the walk to church seemed more necessary now. ”No thank you, ma'am.” A laugh left the older woman's body.

—

The service went as usual. Of course, the aisles were adorned with colorful decor, even the participants of the parish seemed more lively. Everyone was looking forward to Mardi Gras.

Waiting for the celebrant to leave, the rest of the church stood up to take their own. Those who were family or friends stayed to chat with the father, while those who came out of faith or alone took off.

[Y/n] as part of the latter.

Sundays were her free days, and she didn't really know what to do with all the spare time. Hobbies had begun to become boring, making her feel burned out.

However, just the other day, Momma (from the in the wall café) had invited her to work Sunday afternoons. 

_”Say, sugar, you're goin’ at it by yourself, right? Rent, meals. All that?” The elder lady was tapping at the counter, watching as [Y/n] prepared some dishes._

_”Yes, ma'am.” Her voice was gentle, almost if she was spacing out._

_”If you want, come help yo Momma on Sundays. You go to mass like a good girl then come over,” her boss explained. The moment [Y/n] froze, Momma was shaking her head. ”Oh tha’s right. You have like twenty jobs, don't you, cher? S’fine, nevermind the-”_

_”Right after mass. I can do it.” The glare sent her way made the [blonde/redhead/etc] cover her mouth sheepishly._

_”Don't interrupt me, chil’..” She scolded, hand on a hip. ”Don’t you have things to do? Friends to go dancing with? A man to-”_

_”No, ma'am.”_

_A hard smack on the head made her hiss. When she peeked at Momma, she saw the hefty wooden spoon used for gumbo._

_”Well no wonder! Always interruptin’ folk.”_

[Y/n] pouted, touching her head gingerly. She could still feel the damned thing by memory.

The café was one trolley away from the church.

It was quite crowded today, though she did her best not to let it bother her. Thank goodness it didn't take more than ten minutes for her to scramble off.

This part of New Orleans could only be described as one thing: 

_homey._

Anyone who walks down this street can smell only tender, home-cooked food and ancient buildings (not really, but they were probably built when your great grandmama was a baby). It soothed her anxious person.

A bell rang offkey when the door swung open, the voice of Momma echoing from the kitchen. 

”[Y/N]? IS THAT YOU, CHER?” 

”Yes, ma'am. Good morning.” [Y/n] greeted the few customers that were dining on her way to the back. Of course, her voice was much too soft so Momma almost whacked her with _that damned spoon_ yet again. After realizing who had entered her sacred kitchen, the old lady smiled.

“My my, you just the prettiest gal I’ve ever seen.” Her face was that of a proud, doting mother. “Why haven’t you found yourself a man yet?” She paused for a second, observing [Y/n] a bit before thoughtfully offering:

“Or a gal?”

[Y/n] smiled wryly, shaking her head. “I don’t think so, ma’am.” She went to put an apron over her dress, causing Momma to make a face. “What do you want me to-”

“Oh no, no you don’t. Our conversation ain’t done just yet, sugar. You gonna tell me why ya never wanna talk about love.” The way [Y/n]’s eyes widened, and although she was smiling, seemed more than shocked, made the room rigid.

For a second, Momma was certain time had stopped.

Then those startled [e/c] eyes lived once more. [Y/n] exhaled an unsure, shaky breath. Her smile was wobbly, her face pinched in what could only be described as discomfort. Slowly, she put the apron back, standing there quietly. Momma was starting to get impatient. 

“Love is..”

A pause, as if she was considering avoiding this discussion. Or at least trying to. 

”I don’t know how to put it, ma’am.” She returned to put on the apron, tying it snugly behind her back and picking up a few dishes that had seemed to be prepared. Balancing all of them on her arms, she rung the bell and one by one the patrons raised their hand to help her find who had ordered.

The elder woman crossed her arms as [Y/n] returned behind the counter, stopping her from reentering the kitchen. “Spit it out. Vomit it for all I care but say it.” She poked in between the younger worker’s brows harshly. “And stop makin’ those faces! You gonna get wrinkles.”

[Y/n] frowned, furrowing them even after what had just been said. “Love is...nice, I guess.” Her eyes became downcasted, the muscles under her eyes twitching. “It’s kind of..frightening.”

“All these stories about love, falling in love..they make me so..” her hands gripped her skirt, and she bit her lip gently. ”My throat tightens like I'm about to scream, my eyes even squint and my face..” 

Frantically, she began to fan herself, face flushed. Suddenly the room became hot. ”The stories are nice I suppose. They make me feel like I’m reading something vulgar sometimes, I don’t understand them a lot..”

Momma said nothing, a twinkle of recognition in her soft eyes.

“It really doesn’t feel real. I don’t think even that Marlow fellow could capture love in his writing. It’s something..” Her movements were a bit aimless, but her voice was steady, as if she had recited this before. “Most of the time it’s not real, you know. Love is rare. I just- I don’t even need it. No, ma’am. Nothin’ of that for me.” 

She put her fingertips to her lips, looking extremely ashamed of herself. Like she had spoken taboo or something so very rude.

You see, love is a truly horrifying thing. To give yourself up to an extent is much easier said than done. _Trusting_ is easier said than done. Even though the experience of being someones chosen one can be moving, at the same time, it can be one of the most terrifying things that could happen in your life. 

Basically, in the event that you are loved, it will make life seem a bit prettier and tolerable. It might not be a fairytale word for word, but you cannot replicate the feelings of love. Those fluttering feelings will make you feel even a brief moment of happiness. However, where there is good there is bad, vice versa. All good things must come to an end.

Love is never an exception.

“I think..that’s the most I’ve ever heard outta ya in a sitting, cher.” Momma chuckled lightly, and she was going to tell her to continue. A burst of boisterous laughter stopped her, causing both women to turn to it’s source.

A charming man who looked to be no more than twenty stood on the customers’ side of the counter. His laugh was a wonderful sound. So genuine. So _happy_.

It wasn’t fair.

Momma’s face brightened, she seemed to know this happy fellow. “Oh, if it isn’t Abigail’s little Alastor! How’s ya mama an’ them, sugar?” [Y/n] silently thanked this man, because now she would miss the follow up of their little talk.

“Fantastic! I hope you’re doing just as well, Ms.Margaret?” His smile never seemed to leave his face. His eyes were crescents, closed to offer a pleasant expression. “My apologies for interrupting such a stimulating conversation.”

“That show a yours is makin’ you forget things, Ally. I’ve always said to call me-”

“Momma!”

“That’s my boy.” _Margaret_ almost went to pinch his cheeks, but the energy radiating from her worker made her stop. 

Oh, so _he_ doesn’t get hit with the stick? Favoritism! That is blatant favoritism!

[Y/n] wore that blank, serene look on her face, but Momma knew better. With a roll of her eyes, the old lady pulled the gal over by the wrist. The [brunette/redhead/etc] was quick to right herself, simply standing there with a meek smile on her face.

“Al, sugar, I want cha to meet [Y/n].”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * (from top notes)  
> I never proofread.  
> -
> 
> thank you for reading!  
> sorry for such messy, rushed chapters ;;
> 
> anywho, lucky you guys (maybe??), but I have the third chapter ready to go!  
> ready to actually interact with everyone's smiley fucker??  
> ME NEITHER!!
> 
> I just hope I am able to capture Alastor's...Alastorness.  
> I really really REALLY don't want to fuck up this story,,,,,,
> 
> じゃあね~!


	3. knight in shining armor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhhh i am so sorry i took forever to update..sob sob..  
> i hope you guys can put up with my spotty, inconsistent writing and updates huhuhu
> 
> now that we're in quarantine, i've been so much more active and..dare i say, happy?  
> i needed the isolation if i'm being completely honest
> 
> this chapter's a little bit longer than usual, sorry~!  
> but please enjoy :D

_“Aimer, ce n’est pas se regarder l’un l’autre, c’est regarder ensemble dans la même direction.”_   
_– Antoine de Saint-Exupéry_

—

[second pov]

  
  


Alastor did not waste even a _millisecond_ after your introduction to promptly fix his already perfect appearance. A brush of his shoulder, a clap of his hands and a small flick of his hair.

The said man bent at the waist (he was quite tall, you realized, now that you were face to face) and shook your outstretched hand. You didn’t know when you had offered it but supposed it was out of habit.

“Pleasure to be meeting you, Ms.[Y/n]!” His voice was so clear, it chained down your attention. But it was also very difficult to process. You didn’t get why, it just was.

“Oh.” It was all you managed before remembering common etiquette and nodding quickly as if to buy some time. “You..too.”

Alastor had already seen you, but only now was he taking the time to _actually look at you_. 

It was vice versa for you, taking in the smaller details of his person: Brown hair, neat yet looks kind of fluffy and pleasant to touch. Matching eyes that were maybe a few shades darker, reminding you of cocoa, all slightly obscured by the glass of his specs. Upon closer inspection, one of them seemed to have a thicker prescription than the other.

In turn, he narrowed his eyes as if something about you was familiar, to him at least. He paid no mind to your dissecting eyes. “Do I..know you?”

There was a blank blink once, and then twice. You cocked your head to the side, as if not having heard or understood his question. “No, I don’t think so..” You paused for a second, squinting your eyes as if trying to come to a conclusion. 

Both of you were trying to decipher each other, and you both were failing.

“Oh! Oh?” You put your fist into your palm in realization, then the idea sounded absurd, but you spoke and it was too late to go back. “You’re a radio host aren’t you? That’s all I know you from.”

Alastor let out a small laugh, nodding as if absolutely impressed you recognized one of the most recognizable people in the area. “Yes, my dear, that is I.” With an extravagant flick of his wrist, he threw it out only to offer a curt bow, once again taking your hand that was, for some reason, still being held out. “My apologies, perhaps I confused you with someone else.”

You didn’t say anything to that, staring at him blankly, no expression and looking a tad bit... _bored_. You were not that by any means, but it wasn’t like anyone else knew that. You weren’t really sure how you felt about this meeting.

It was a bit strange, you would later admit, how nice his gloved hand felt on yours.

Both of you simply stood there, eyeing each other with held hands. Both of you were oh so certain you had met before but neither could name a time or place. Both of you were starting to realize holding hands whilst doing all of the above was a bit..scandalous.

Well, maybe not but judging by the looks Momma Margaret was giving you…

Alastor let go quickly but gently.

“Momma, dear, it seems I’m out of break time! I should be getting back to the studio now.” He turned to her, eyes closing as he grinned boyishly. She shook her head with a smile, letting out a small sigh.

“Come by more often, Al. I’ve missed your energy.” 

His face remained pleasant and he turned to look at you, who look like they decided not to take part of another conversation and was wrapping up what appeared to be-

“For the road. Still got fifteen minutes before lunchtime passes.” It was quick, simple and a very friendly gesture. His grin widened. 

“Thank you, Ms.[Y/n]! I hope to see you around.” He accepted the food, saying farewell and leaving with a newfound pep in his step. A lovely lunch from a lovely dame.

You were already back to work before the door rang from his departure. It wasn’t even five seconds back in the kitchen til you sighed, hanging your head and turning to look at Momma. 

She had that all-seeing, all-knowing look in her eye and frankly, you didn’t want to have any of it. So you held up a hand, _technically_ not cutting her off. “He was nice. Don’t you plan nothing, ya here, Momma?.”

“Hm..Sure, honey. I’ll leave you be for now.”

_For now._

You prayed that Alastor wouldn’t be visiting anytime soon.

  
  


-

  
  


Closing time. That’s right! Sunday was a day that you decide to help and work _aaaall_ day. 

Okay so it wasn’t _“aaaall”_ day, but it was much more than your usual hours. It was much more tiring, that’s for sure.

Stifling a yawn, you knew it was mighty bad to continuously walk around at night without company, lest people think you’re “running around”. Not much you could do about it though.

Momma had sent you off with food, as per custom, but deciding to eat at home was the plan. She even offered to let you stay the night since you had morning shifts on Monday.

The cat would not like that, however, so you declined (followed by explaining why exactly).

The nights were getting quite chilly, despite it not being the winter season. Pulling up both the scarf and the neck of your coat, a gentle breeze brushed past. 

Usually, the walks home were pleasant, but today couldn’t have felt more off. Your nerves almost snapped like twigs the moment you heard shuffling. 

You walking at this hour? Normal.

Now..other people walking at this hour? Not so normal. At least, not on Sundays and not in this part of New Orleans. It didn’t matter if Mardi Gras was around the corner or not, folk on this side of town just didn’t take late-night strolls. Especially with what the news have been talking about nonstop.

Murders in the area. People shouldn’t be out late… which was quite exactly what you were doing.

Exhaling, you didn’t turn back and instead, picked up the pace. Your heart began to rack loudly against your ribs, because no way you were being followed, right?

But alas, the shuffling you had heard before became more clear. You were hyper-aware of the noises coming behind you, seeming to try and mirror your steps. Your breathing, your heart rate, everything seemed to be loud. 

You had nothing to defend yourself with, unless this person liked homemade oysters Rockefeller. 

You were pretty sure that wasn’t going to be the case. 

Without much choice left, you broke into a sprint. Trolleys were not going to pass by anytime soon, if you screamed for help it’d take a while for anyone to wake up at this hour, the police station wasn’t nearby- Oh! There was the whole radio..tower..station thing, but could they help? I mean, surely they would let you hide..right?

Would you let someone in if they came as a package deal with a _possible murderer?_

Well, maybe for ratings. All you had to do to make it there was- you checked the street signs- run for about 10 minutes? Oh Lord have mercy.

You kept running despite your lungs screaming for you to stop and just get kidnapped as long as it meant you would catch your breath. Your legs began to hurt (you most definitely stretched something) making you consider buying more comfortable shoes. Though almost anything you could wear on your feet had some sort of heel. Not great for running away from potential assailants.

You didn’t have infinite stamina, unfortunately, so with a wheeze and cough, your running slowed. Once again, you didn’t dare turn around out of fear that they could be two inches away. Now you were on a street with closed shops, and not everyone lives where they work. It never hurt to try though.

You tried to scream for help, but that chase simply took all your air. 

Legs swaying, you continued forward, unsure of where to go. You didn’t even realize how erratic your breathing was til you saw the clouds your breath was making. Slowing down was a mistake.

The packed dinner clattered to the ground as your arm was pulled harshly backward. Something shifted inside that you were certain shouldn’t have, and a pained shriek was forced out your throat. 

Winded and absolutely mortified, your eyes struggled to focus. There in front of you was a moderately attractive man, smiling a crude smile. One that you didn’t recognize at all until…

Oh.

This man came to the café very often, not so much to be considered a regular but often enough to be familiar. That didn’t bring much relief, but maybe your earlier idea of offering food might have a higher chance of working. You hadn’t spoken with him much, only taking his orders and listening to him because he liked talking quite a bit about himself. What could he want with you?

“You..Wha…” Full and coherent sentences apparently would not be formed at the moment. Out of fear of bringing any more harm to your either fractured or broken arm, you faced him, chest heaving painfully. The cool air only burned.

“Didn’t mean to frighten ya, Ms.[Y/n],” he knew your name. Isn’t that wonderful? You don’t remember his. And if you don’t wanna scare people, maybe don’t chase and grab them! “I wasn’t planning on you noticing me til ya got home!”

He laughed as if the situation was one between friends, which it wasn’t. You hid the discomfort that threatened to sour your face. “L..Look, mister, I don’t want trouble. Please,” you inhaled slowly. “Leave me alone.” There was an attempt at pulling your arm away, gently as to not hurt it, but his grip was like a steel trap. Your eyes jumped from his hold to his face. He only tightened his grasp.

“Ah, well actually Ms.[Y/n], I was hoping you would listen to a confession of mine. I’ve been watching ya work and I really only go to see you!” Another laugh that caused your body to freeze up. This guy is definitely not going to let go of you. “The food is so-so, I’ve been thinking about takin’ ya to a place with _real_ food. Would ya like that? Going to dinner with me? I’ll buy ya dresses if ya want, too. Really, Ms.[Y/n], I wanted to tell you all this at your-”

“I’m sorry, but please let me go!” You pulled with more force this time, getting out for a second before he latched on once more. Out of your peripherals, you saw no lights, not even a single store on this street open. Just your luck! But, to be fair, shopkeepers are doing good to listen to the news. He pulled on your arm, making you stumble forward due to the agony that was gonna definitely last. “Let go, you’re hurting my arm!”

As your voice got louder, this man only seemed to become distressed. And not the kind of distress where he’s realized what he’s done and is afraid of getting arrested no, he looked like a parent upset with a disobedient child! 

“It’s only hurting because you’re trying to get away, Ms.[Y/n]. I’m trying to talk with you.” He grew more and more upset the more you struggled. Finally, you screamed for help. That made him _very_ angry. “If we can’t talk outside or at your home, then I guess we go to mine.”

His tone was livid, making you truly still in fear. His hand raised to strike, allowing a small voice in your head demanding you fight back. It was terrible. This all felt so familiar.

You kicked with little aim, a yelp escaping when you heard him curse. He released your arm which was all you needed to scramble away, of course not before grabbing your probably ruined dinner. Momma made it with love.

Once again, the chase was on but this time, if you were caught there would not be another chance. You yelled as much as you could, but that exhausted your wind supply. _Stupid! Why are you so stupid?!_

You didn’t care about the brutal hitting of your heels on the ground, too focused on simply surviving this ordeal, but perhaps you should have. Even if just a little bit.

It snapped.

The stupid little thing (it was small! why would it break!) had been worn down throughout all these months of walking home. This was just it’s, quite literal, breaking point.

_I fell._

_I fell._

**_I FELL._ **

_Get up._

_GET UP._

_Move!_

_He’s going to get you._

_He’s going to hurt you._

**_He’s going to kill you._ **

_Momma, please help me._

**_Help me._ **

You pulled off your shoes, not caring what was left behind at this point, and hurried to stand up. You cried out, mistakenly having tried to lift yourself up with the injured arm. There was a disturbing pop that made tears spring to your eyes.

“Darn it, Ms.[Y/n], I wished you had just agreed nicely. I didn’t wanna be mean to you.” He grabbed both of your legs, pulling you towards him. You shook your head, much too tired and much too afraid to speak. “You’ll learn to love me, you’ll see. I’ll just have to be a tiny bit mean.”

You thrashed about, attempting to kick and punch but all to no avail. You reached for a heel, because hey, it could be used like _that_ but he tossed it out of your reach.

“I’ll be nice this one last time and at least make you sleep through this.” 

You didn’t know what “this” was, but frankly, you wouldn’t like to. Again, his arm pulled back with a fist and you brought up your arms on instinct.

_Protect yourself._

_Soften the blow._

_It’ll hurt less._

A harsh blow resounded, but you never felt anything. It was a sick noise, like crunching bones or something. Were you knocked out of your body?

There was no hold on your legs anymore either. Tentatively, you brought down your arms, searching for answers. 

Then you saw them. 

Your attacker and…

“Alastor?!” You sounded more surprised than confused but confused nonetheless. He was atop the assailant, punching his face until it was bloody murder! You winced as Al was elbowed in the face and almost fell back. 

Looking around, you searched for the heel.

“Evening Ms.[Y/n]!” There was wrestling and a groan, but his voice stayed bright just for you. A gentleman should never cause a lady to have worry lines. “Do me a favor and run to the station. I’ll be there in a minute!”

You looked at him incredulously. You meant no offense, but that man could snap Al in half if he wanted! Just look at what he did to your arm!

However, better you listen than get in his way. Maybe he knew how to fight and therefore had a higher chance of surviving. Christ if anything happens to Al… 

You quickly put the heel behind him and then did as you were told: You ran to the radio tower as fast as your damned legs could go.

Alastor cracked a smile at yet another one of your gestures. How sweet, you thought of him and how to help. Although the pocket knife in his coat would be more than enough to end this miserable man’s life, he grabbed your little gift and only smiled even more.

Such a dainty sized shoe. As delicate looking as you did, but he knew the truth. You put up a good fight. These little things did too. 

Tossing it up and down to feel its weight, he looked down at the bruised pulp that was the man’s face. Checking to make sure you were no longer within the radius, he stabbed down.

Again and again and _again,_ he would have called it overkill had it not been for the fact that these were _your_ wonderful heels that _you_ had given him so he could protect himself. He was just using them to their full potential!

Pausing to sigh merrily at your kind-heartedness before resuming his work. He could always come back for the body later, all things said. Hide it by a dumpster or alley nearby. The only person he knew to ever be out at this hour was just you. No one would find it. But first things first!

He's going to meet you at the station.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading til the end!  
> constructive critism and such is much appreciated, i hope that my writing's going.. okay at least!
> 
> actually really happy with how this kinda flowed outta my brain, i've even started on the next chapter!!  
> i don't think it'll be as long as this one but..?
> 
> also, i know it may seem like al is already simping, but rest assured, he just thinks the reader is really sweet and appreciates her in a totally platonic, friendly way.
> 
> *sweats nervously*
> 
> じゃあね~!


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